Hoops Holiday (Hoops 2.50)

“We gotta go,” I say abruptly.

“Okay, and I meant it about catching up when I come with JP, my boss, out to LA next month.”

I start walking backward toward the car, keeping my eyes on Lo and slanting her a teasing grin.

“You gonna try to see Kenan while you’re out there, too?”

Lotus’s smile fades, the light in her eyes flickers and she gestures for Chase when their Uber pulls up.

“Not a chance in Hell,” she answers.

“I don’t get you.” I stop my back stepping to hold her stare. “He’s a great guy. And he’s handsome. You don’t think he’s handsome?”

Lotus lets Chase climb into the back seat of the Uber ahead of her and pauses, facing away and turning her head, showing me her profile, not her expression.

“I think he’s magnificent,” she says softly.

Before I can say as much as a “what the heck,” she ducks into the car and it pulls away.

We’re quiet on the short drive from Deck’s party to our hotel, which is only a few blocks away. We’re both loathe to accidentally wake Sarai. If she wakes up, it will take forever to answer all her questions and get her back asleep. We need her to stay down so we can handle this ache that has been throbbing between us all night. An ache we cultivated with every stolen touch and lingering glance.

I very carefully tug Sarai’s clothes off and slip her nightgown over her head, watching her face for signs of stirring. She’s out cold.

Yes! Mama’s getting some!

I reach to turn on the bedside lamp so she won’t be frightened if she wakes up in the middle of the night, and the light glints over her new gris gris ring. There’s this constant tug of war between what I believe to be true with my rational mind, and the undeniable realities of my heritage. Maybe it was my imagination that I was actually safe when I wore the ring Mimi gave me. And the leashed power I sense in Lotus sometimes, the gleam of ancient wisdom in her eyes – maybe that’s all in my mind, too.

Even though Lotus seems to be the reckless free spirit, taking all the risks I shy away from, she has a compass that never ultimately seems to steer her wrong. I adamantly objected when she dropped out of Spelman to pursue the opportunity in New York, but she knew it was right for her, and even enrolled in FIT once in New York for her Associate’s degree in design. If she were a cat, she’d have nine lives and always land on her feet.

I lift Sarai’s tiny limp hand and kiss the ring before leaving the room and quietly pulling the door closed.

When I enter the hotel master suite, August’s broad, naked shoulders are pressed into the headboard, and his caramel-kissed curls flop into slate gray eyes. The million-thread count hotel sheets puddle at his lean hips and caress the stack of muscles over his abs.

“Let me save you the guesswork,” he says, his smirk inviting me to leave any inhibitions at the door. “I am naked under here.”

I chuckle and walk to the edge of the bed, bending so one knee dips into the mattress.

“And let me save you the guesswork,” I say, tugging the sequin dress over my head. “I’m naked under here.”

I ignore the groan that escapes his lips at the sight of me in my thong and tiny bra.

“Well, almost naked.” My eyes never leave his while I unfasten the front snap of my strapless bra and slide the scanty underwear over my hips and down my legs.

“Am I coming to get you?” August asks, his breaths growing labored, sexual tension snapping in the small space separating us. Just the length of the bed, but it feels like he’s a hundred miles away.

“How about I come get you?" Naked with my hair hanging over my shoulders, brushing my already tight nipples, I can barely make myself go slow. I want to fling myself at him. To jerk the sheet away and impale myself on him. Ride him until we both come so hard we see stars. Instead I draw out every move, stretching my advance like notes held, sustained. His eyes heat, setting my skin on fire everywhere they touch me. I feel his glance like a physical thing, stroking me into a frenzy I can barely contain. By the time I reach him, I’m so wet, the insides of my thighs are damp. Holding my stare, August slips his hand between my legs and massages the wetness into my swollen lips.

“Well looka here. A gift for me?” he asks, his

laugh low and rough. “You shouldn’t have.”

God, he’s so beautiful, inside and out, and I can’t believe he’s mine sometimes. I still wake up some mornings expecting to be trapped in the nightmare that was once my life, and tears of gratitude, of awe fill my eyes, sometimes spill over when I realize that I’m literally living the dream. Maybe that will always happen from time to time. You don’t escape the hell I was confined to unscarred, unburnt. You live with those memories, learn from those mistakes and make the best life you can.

And this life with August, exceeds my every hope.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” I whisper, rolling my hips over his exploring fingers.

“I know.” He sits up and gently presses my shoulders until my back is against the mattress and he hovers over me. “Cause for celebration, I’d say.”